


A Severe Case of Hypochondria

by TWDObsessive



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Hypochondria, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-18
Updated: 2018-11-18
Packaged: 2019-08-25 13:39:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16662013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDObsessive/pseuds/TWDObsessive
Summary: Rick has a severe case of hypochondria and Daryl wants to figure out why.





	A Severe Case of Hypochondria

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HogwartsToAlexandria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HogwartsToAlexandria/gifts).



> Another challenge with my friend HogwartsToAlexandria! The challenge was using hypochondria and the sentence "Did you really just throw a plastic spoon at me?"
> 
> Thanks to HogwartsToAlexandria for the challenge and the beta! Don't forget to go read her version as well!!

“Does this freckle look funny?”

Daryl rolled his eyes and sat down at the breakfast table next to his paranoid boyfriend. “Lemme see,” he sighed.

Rick turned his arm around so Daryl could see the dark spot near his elbow.

“No,” Daryl answered as he scooped up a spoonful of oatmeal.

“No...no. You’re just trying to spare me the news. It looks funny. It’s not circular, it has muddy edges. It’s probably cancer.”

Daryl dropped his head into his hands. “You don’t have cancer.”

“How do _you_ know,” Rick asked. “I mean, I could lose an arm. Look what happened to Aaron!”

Daryl took a deep breath. “Aaron did not have a freckle. He had a 500 pound tree trunk.”

“That’s not the point. The point is- what if I lose this arm and it makes me weak and I die?”

“That’s not going to happen. Last week you thought you had malaria and you lived to see another day.”

“Mosquito bites _kill_ , Daryl”

“And did you die?”

“Not yet,” Rick answered exasperated. He lifted up his pant leg and scratched at his ankle. “Still itches,” he pouted.

“And what about last month with that little headache you had?”

“You mean my _aneurysm_? That could go off at any time! And then bam. I’m dead.”

Daryl scooter closer to Rick and placed what he hoped was a calming hand on his knee. “Look, Darlin, what happened to my walker-killing, savior-fighting, throat-eating badass?”

Rick shrugged and looked away. 

“Seriously, why is it that all of a sudden you think death is coming for you around every corner?” Daryl pushed.

But before Rick could answer, Eugene sat down with a bowl of his own mushy breakfast. 

“Is this banter of an intimate sexual nature or may I join in on the early morning camaraderie?”

“Eugene!” Rick shouted. “I’m glad you’re here!”

Eugene looked to Daryl in confusion. “He feeling up to par?”

“Why? Do I look sick?” Rick asked in renewed panic.

Daryl lifted a brow at Eugene to welcome him to the conversation.

“You look...dirty. But we all do. As far as high fever or upset tummy are concerned, you seem to be ticking as you should be.”

“But what about this freckle!?” Rick asked, shoving his elbow towards the scientist. 

Eugene put his spoon down and took a hard look at Rick’s skin. “Hm,” Eugene pondered. “Hmmm. Oh.”

“What is it!? Is it cancer!?”

“Well, I’m not an oncologist but my limited experience with skin issues leads me to believe that this freckle...is dirt.”

Daryl burst out laughing as Eugene licked a finger and rubbed the offensive freckle off Rick’s skin.

Rick picked up his spoon and threw it at Daryl.

“Did you seriously just throw a plastic spoon at me? Do you realize you could have sliced my arm off!?”

“Now you’re making fun of me,” Rick said with a pout as Eugene took his oatmeal and escaped to another table.

“This new thing...it’s just ridiculous to think you’re dying constantly. Small shit like this didn’t use to worry you so much, what changed?”

Rick blinked numbly. “Can I have my spoon back?”

“What changed, Rick?”

Rick looked off to the corner of the room as if the answer was hidden there. “You.”

“Me? What did I do?”

“You love me. And ever since we got together I want to live so bad it hurts. I don’t want to die anymore. I’m afraid to die. I don’t want to leave you.”

Daryl’s face softened and he brushed a hand through Rick’s messy curls.

“I don’t want you to die either but you keep focusing on it so much and you’ll forget how to live.”

“Yeah. You’re right,” Rick said. “I’m sorry I’ve been such a pain in the ass.”

“You ain’t been a pain. I just hate seeing you this stressed out.”

“I’ll get myself back under control,” Rick promised.

“Good.”

Rick took Daryl’s spoon and dug into his own bowl of now-cold oatmeal, determined to get over his latest case of hypochondria. After a few bites he felt an itch in his nose and he inhaled deeply and sneezed his oatmeal all over his lover.

Holding a hand to his forehead, checking himself for fever, he whispered, “Well, that can’t be good.”


End file.
